by Nora Roberts
“Sure I do. But it always amazes me that some people can handle so many, want to handle so many.”
She was caught up in the way he looked, that cool, sculpted face, the sea-green eyes. The way it felt to press against him, warm, exciting and right.
“I like big families. I was an only child for a few years. I wasn’t lonely, because Dad was always there. But everything just clicked into place when Natasha came into our lives. I wanted a baby sister,” she remembered. “But Brandon came first, and that suited me fine.”
Nick had been an only child himself. But he’d had no father to be there. “I used to wish for a brother. Then I had Zack.” He shrugged. “He went to sea, and I didn’t.”
Her generous heart ached for the boy he’d been. “It was hard on you, his leaving.”
“He did what he had to do. At the time, it seemed like he was leaving me. Just me. I got over it.”
The wave of love rolled over her, making her careless with words. “So now you have a brother again, and an enormous family. You never have to be alone, unless you want to. That’s why I’d like at least three children myself.”
A little warning blip sounded in his brain. He glanced down at her, then focused carefully on the ceiling. “Well.”
Succinctly put, Freddie thought, but she didn’t allow herself to sigh. It was much too soon to think about children. Their children.
It was a good time, as Nick saw it, to change the subject. “Chantel doesn’t look like anyone’s mother.”
Now Freddie lifted a brow. “Well, she is. And, if you don’t mind a little friendly advice, you really should try to keep your tongue from hanging out every time she walks into the room.”
He looked at her again, leered. “Jealous?”
She surprised, and insulted, him by bursting into delighted laughter. It rocked her hard enough that she was forced to sit up and try, unsuccessfully, to catch her breath.
Looking down at his scowling face only started her up again.
“You’re overdoing it,” he complained.
“Jealous.” Gasping for air, she pressed a hand to her stomach. “Oh, right, Nicholas. I’m green. No doubt she’d toss Quinn aside in a heartbeat to run off with you. Anyone can see they only tolerate each other. That’s why the air starts to sizzle when they’re in the same room together.”
His pride was injured, a little. “So she’s stuck on her husband. Anyway, how do you figure he handles those steamy love scenes she plays on the screen?”
“By knowing she’s not playing a scene when she’s with him, I imagine.” Unable to resist, she brushed her fingers through his hair. “That’s what marriage is all about, isn’t it? Trust and respect, as well as love and passion?”
Another warning blip. “I suppose,” he said, and let it stop there. “Zack’s going to drop his teeth when I get back and tell him about meeting her. He’s seen some of her movies enough times to recite the dialogue.”
“So, you’ll gloat.”
“Damn right.”
Relaxed again, he glanced down at her. She looked so pretty, so…magical, he supposed, in the streams of moonlight that poured through the skylight. Her hair was a mess, the way he liked it best, and her lips were barely curved, as if she were thinking of something that pleased her.
“Not tired, huh?”
More than interested, she walked her fingers up his chest. She had been thinking of something that pleased her. She’d been thinking of him.
“I wondered if you’d get back to that.”
“Just building up my strength.”
“Good.” Laughing, she rolled on top of him. “’Cause you’re going to need it.”
Chapter Ten
“You’re telling me you met Chantel O’Hurley. The Chantel O’Hurley.”
“That’s what I said.” It was a big charge for Nick to pull one off on Zack. It was no secret that the blond goddess was one of “Zack’s little fantasies,” as Rachel dryly put it. “The same Chantel O’Hurley whose movies you buy on video the minute they hit the stands.” He hefted another crate of club soda into the storeroom.
“Wait a minute. Just a minute.” Going in behind Nick empty-handed, Zack tugged on his sleeve. “You mean you met her, in the flesh?”
“She’s got some terrific flesh, too, let me tell you.” It didn’t hurt to gloat. “I had dinner with her, a couple of times.” Nick made sure it sounded offhand, added a shrug for good measure. “Of course, her sisters aren’t chopped liver, either. They’re both—”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll talk about her sisters later. You had dinner, I mean, like dinner? With her?” Zack found he had to clear his throat. “Together. With her.”
“That’s right.” Of course, the meal had been shared by an entire household, kids included, but there was no need to mention those small details. “I told you I was going to spend a couple of days with Maddy and Reed.”
“I wasn’t thinking,” Zack muttered. “Didn’t put it together. If you really met her, had dinner with her, what’s she like?”
Nick turned, pursed his lips in an exaggerated kiss.
“Come on, you’re killing me.” A victim of his own fantasies, Zack hurried out after Nick. “I mean, how does she look, just hanging around?”
“She filled out her bikini just fine.”
“Bikini.” Overcome, Zack pressed a hand to his heart. “You saw her in a bikini.”
“We took a couple swims together, sure.” Actually, he and Freddie had been entertaining her triplets with water polo. But why get technical?
“Swam with her.” Zack swallowed hard. “Got…wet.”
“Usually do, swimming.”
Mindful of his blood pressure, Zack decided to ease back from that particular image. He’d save it for later. “And you talked to her. Had conversations?”
“All the time. She’s got a sharp brain. That sort of adds to the appeal, I think. After all, I’m not an animal.”
“I’m just asking.” It was a harmless diversion, Zack thought, for a happily married man who adored and lusted after his own wife. “You really met her.” He sighed, lifted a crate of soft drinks.
“I not only met her. I kissed her.”
“Get out of town.”
“No, you’re right, I didn’t kiss her.”
Zack snorted. “No kidding.”
“She kissed me.” Nick leaned on a dolly of crates, tapping his finger to his lips. “She planted one on me. Right here.”
“You’re standing there telling me Chantel O’Hurley kissed you—on the mouth.”
“Hey, would I lie to you?”
Zack thought about it. “No,” he decided. “You wouldn’t.” Before Nick had a clue of his intention, Zack grabbed him, jerked him forward and kissed him—as Chantel had—full on the mouth.
“Damn it, Zack!” Another flurry of oaths followed as Nick grimaced and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Are you crazy?”
“Hey, I figure it’s as close as I’ll ever get.” Satisfied, Zack carried in the next case. “A man has his dreams, pal.”
“Well, keep your dreams away from me.” Nick gave his mouth another swipe for good measure. “Man, what if somebody saw you do that?”
“Just us here, bro. And I do appreciate you coming in to give me a hand so soon after you got back in town.”
“Don’t mention it. And I mean don’t mention it.”
“So, how did Freddie like her trip to the rich and famous?”
“She’s used to it.” Nick scratched his neck as a line of sweat began to dribble. “It’s her kind of background.”
“I guess you’re right. It’s hard to tell. She’s just Freddie around here.”
They finished unloading the cases, and finished off by having tall glasses of the iced tea Rio had stored in the refrigerator. “Hot for June,” Zack commented. “You’re going to have to hook the air conditioner up in the apartment.”
“Before long.”
It seemed a good opening, Zack
mused, for something that had been preying on his mind. “I was thinking, with the way your career’s moving, and everything…” Everything was Freddie, but it didn’t seem quite the time to bring that up. “You might not want to stay on here.”
“Upstairs?”
“Yeah, that, and here. Working at the bar.”
Puzzled, Nick set down his glass. “Are you firing me?”
“Hell, no. The truth is, I don’t know what I’d do without you right now. But I was beginning to worry that you’re feeling obligated. Bartending wasn’t your dream for your future.”
“It wasn’t yours, either,” Nick said quietly.
“That’s different,” Zack began, then shook his head when he caught Nick’s look. “Okay, maybe it wasn’t. I had my shot, made my choice. And the fact is, I love this place. It makes me happy now. I don’t want either one of us to lose sight of the fact that you’ve got something else going.”
“Still looking out for me?”
“Habit.”
Nick’s lips curved. “Well, let’s put it this way. Sooner or later you’re going to have to find yourself another bartender and part-time piano player. But for the present, working the night shift doesn’t interfere with my composing. And if the play’s a bomb, I need a backup.”
“It won’t be a bomb.”
“You’re right, it won’t. But let’s just let things float the way they are for a while.” He glanced at the clock, swore. “Damn, I’m late. I told Freddie we’d start a half hour ago. See you later.”
Alone, Zack wandered back into the bar. No, he thought, it wasn’t the deck of a ship, and he wasn’t at the helm. And Rachel wasn’t a blond movie queen.
He grinned and gulped down the rest of his iced tea. And he was a very, very happy man.
For another change of scenery, Nick had decided it was time they gave Freddie’s piano a try. Despite the distractions, the noise and the temptation to spend their time playing, instead of working, while visiting the O’Hurleys, they had managed to buckle down long enough to make some real progress.
Nick’s tendency might have been to float on that for a day or two, but Freddie couldn’t wait to get back to it.
So they settled in her apartment for the afternoon, putting the finishing touches on act 1’s closing chorus number.
“It pops,” Nick decided. “It’s a good thing we didn’t finish this when Frank was around. He’d already be working on the choreography.”
“Well, I like it. But I think—”
“Nope, time to stop thinking.” He snagged her, pulling her into his arms as he rose.
“Put me down. We haven’t even started on the opening for act 2.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Today,” she said, laughing as she tried to wiggle free. “Nick, it’s the middle of the day.”
“Even better.”
“You’re the one who always says we have work to do.”
“That was when I was trying to avoid doing just what I’m going to do right now.” He dropped her onto the bed, from a height designed to make her bounce.
“We haven’t finished our quota for the day.” When he grinned at her and began to unbutton his shirt, she pushed herself up. “That’s not the quota I meant.”
“Going to make me seduce you, huh?”
“No.” Instantly, she thought better of it. Tilting her head, she gave him a long, considering look. “Well, maybe…if you think you can.”
He’d already unbuttoned his shirt. The idea of a challenge put a new spin on the easy pleasure he’d anticipated. She slid her gaze away, then back to him when he sat on the side of the bed.
“Just looking at me isn’t very seductive.”
“I like looking at you, now and again.”
Her brows lowered even as he smiled. “That’s very smooth, Mr. Romance.”
“You have to remember, you’re not really my type—according to an unimpeachable source.” He merely caught her around the waist and pinned her when she started to spring off the bed in a huff.
“I’m not interested,” she said coolly. “Let me up.”
“Oh, you’re interested. This little pulse in your throat…” He lowered his lips to it, grazed over. “It’s hammering.”
“That’s annoyance.”
“No. When you’re really annoyed, you get this line right here.” With a fingertip, he traced between her brows, smiling when the line formed. “Yeah, like that.” He kissed her forehead, as well, satisfied when it smoothed.
“I don’t want you to—” Her words slipped down her throat when his mouth cruised teasingly over hers.
“What?”
“To…mmmm.”
“That’s what I thought.”
How could any man resist that slow melt she did? That quiet purr in the back of her throat when a kiss drew out, long and lazy?
And it was that way he wanted to make love with her now. Lazily, so that his system could absorb every small and subtle change in hers. A touch, and she shifted to him. A murmur, and she sighed out her pleasure.
It seemed there was nothing he could do, or ask, that she didn’t respond to willingly.
He wanted to see her, all of her, while the sun streamed in the windows and the spurting sound of midday traffic rattled against the panes. His hands were patient and slow as he flicked open the buttons of her blouse, one by one.
Beneath, she wore clinging cotton, with a fuss of lace at the bodice. He traced a fingertip along the edge, dipped under it, while her breath caught and quickened.
It was always this way, she thought hazily. Effortless and lovely. Whether they came together frantic or teasing, quiet or with shock waves, it was always so simple.
So perfect.
She could feel her own arousal blossom inside her, like a rose, petal by petal. It was just that easy to open for him, to bring him to her so that their mouths met and their bodies fit.
The faint breeze from the open windows drifted over her, as lazily as his hands, so that her skin was warmed, then cooled, warmed, then cooled. Dreamlike, the sounds from the street below, the streak of sunlight, all faded into a background, a kind of stage set for the fantasy.
She arched to help him when he drew the cotton away, when he loosened her trousers. In concert, she slipped his open shirt from his shoulders, letting her hands glide along the wiry strength of his arms.
She wasn’t sure when the pace began to quicken, or the heat to build. The underlying urgency seeped into her like a drug, then shot straight through her bloodstream.
Now she was clinging to him, moving frantically beneath him.
“I want you now, Nick.” The explosive spurt of energy had her rolling over the bed, struggling, even as he struggled to possess.
The pleasure was suddenly dark, dangerous, careening from misty dreams into a rage of greed. The hunger stabbed, so sharp, so voracious, that both of them shuddered.
No one had ever given him this.
“Now,” she said, gasping out the word as she mounted him, crying out in triumph as she enclosed him.
Stunned by the lightning change in her, staggered by the force of his own appetite, he gripped her hips hard and let her ride him.
It was later when he thought of it. Later when they lay together, exhausted as children after a romp. He’d never given her the slightest hint of romance. None of the pretty trappings—the candles and wine, the quiet corners and long walks.
She deserved better. Then again, he’d tried to convince her right from the start that she deserved better than what he had to offer. Since she hadn’t listened, the least he could do was give her something back.
He wished he could give her everything.
Where had that thought come from? he wondered, and let out a quiet, careful breath. Emotion whirled through him, buffeting him like a storm, he thought. Warming him like light. Calling to him like music.
When had he gone from enjoying her to craving her? To loving her?
Back up, back up, he w
arned himself. It would be disastrous for both of them if he let whatever was bubbling inside him get out of control.
Better to move on the initial idea, he decided, and pretend he’d never thought any further than giving her a special evening.
“You’ve got a lot of fancy duds in that closet.”
It amused her that he would have taken notice of her wardrobe. “Even in West Virginia, we manage to shop, and wear something other than overalls occasionally.”
“Don’t get testy—I like West Virginia.”
It was where she’d grown up, in a big house, with antique furniture and a live-in housekeeper. And he’d grown up over a bar, and on the streets, with a stepfather who liked his whiskey just a little too much. Best to remember that, LeBeck, before you get any crazy ideas.
“I was just thinking you could pick out something jazzy, and we’d go out.”
“Go out?” Intrigued now, she sat up, blinking sleepily. “Where?”
“Wherever you like.” He wished she wouldn’t look at him as if he’d just conked her on the head with a bat. They’d gone out before. More or less. “I’ve got some connections, I could get tickets for a show. Not mine,” he added before she could speak. “I don’t want my own tunes competing inside my head.”
She shifted again, foolishly delighted by the idea of a date. “It’s kind of late in the day to snag tickets for anything.”
“Not if you know who to call.” He trailed a finger lightly down her arm in a way that made her want to sigh. She wondered if he knew he touched her just like that now and again, without thinking about it. “We could have a late supper afterward. At that French place you like.”
Not just a date, she thought, dazed. A power date. “That would be nice.” She wasn’t sure how to react, and before she could, he was up and tugging on his clothes. “Get spruced up, then. I’ll go make some calls and meet you at my place. An hour.”
He leaned over to give her a quick kiss, then was gone, leaving her staring after him.
Maybe he wasn’t Sir Lancelot, she thought with a shake of her head. But, tarnished armor or not, he had his moments.